Prohibition
by StrangeAsWeird
Summary: AU. Feliciano is a bartender at a local speakeasy. Ludwig is an alcohol smuggler with something on his mind.


The silky jazz music caressed the patrons' ears eagerly, and the air reeked of stale cigar smoke and smuggled booze. Speakeasies were all like this: all clamorous, claustrophobia inducing, and had a nice helping of grunge on top. Most were crammed at booths and tables; it was easier to dash if the pigs showed up, and one man hunched over the bar with a beer mug clutched in his heavy hand. He was ever stirring on his barstool, which made every muscle tense at least once a minute, and he barely ever hoisted his head up except to request the bartender another drink. In the background, several rowdy men were brawling due to an alcoholic haze, but he didn't even blink when a chair collided with the wall. It was resolved within seconds with hearty laughs and clinking of glass mugs, anyway. Alcohol seemed to make everyone happier. The man at the bar rested his forehead on his hands and tried to massage away the migraine, mussing up his perfectly slicked back blonde hair in the process.

The bartender was getting worried by now, and by the fifth mug of beer, he was ready to try and confront this mysterious man. Mysterious, no. That wasn't quite the word. The bartender knew he was a liquor smuggler that cooperated with the Italian mob, but had no lasting connection as the man now serving him drinks did. Feliciano Vargas was a rather hopeless youth that got dragged into working at speakeasies for his brother, Romano, who was quite high up there in the mob politics. To Feliciano, it was either participate and serve in the mob, or get shunned or hit. Finding neither one appealing, the Italian quickly flourished in his new profession as a bartender, having a voracious appetite for social interaction and an overactive friendliness.

Feliciano stared at the man at the bar. What did he say his name was? Ludwig. Ah… Right. Of German ancestry. No wonder he enjoyed beer so much. He probably got it imported from his homeland. The Italian could only see the top of Ludwig's head, whose thick, blond locks were very neatly held, and contrasted greatly with his haphazard, blood red mess. Then, with a mighty flourish, Ludwig leaned back and finished the last of his beer before slapping the mug with a dramatic thump onto the bar once more. Red eyebrows knitted together in concern, and Feliciano's cheerful eyes were now clouded in anxiety.

"Sir…are you okay?" His worry stricken voice squeaked out meekly, and Ludwig's blue eyes snapped up to meet the Italian's brown ones. The German's hand eased off the glass as he sensed the young man's apprehension, and he nodded curtly in response. His cheeks were perhaps painted a bit rosier than usual, but other than that, Ludwig seemed in good shape. Feliciano even admired the German's tolerance for a fleeting moment before he reached for the tap to refresh his customer's drink, but Ludwig's hand grasped the bartender's forearm in protest, shaking his head.

Feliciano couldn't explain it, but he felt all the hairs on his arm stand on end, and tingly sensations shot through his limb at lightning speed. The next moment it was gone, and Ludwig spoke.

"I'll just have a ginger ale, my good man. I'm trying to cut back a bit."

The Italian nodded and rummaged through the bar, seeming to have great difficulty in finding the one thing that was actually legal to drink in the place. He spared glances at Ludwig as he searched, and after he brought up the drink after much hardship, he allowed himself to speak more to this mysterious fellow.

"Is there something troubling you, sir? You haven't spoken more than two words until just now."

He didn't answer immediately, but sipped modestly at his ginger ale and shook his head. He didn't meet the Italian's eyes, and Feliciano knew he was hiding something. Perhaps it was a lot of things. There must be some reason he consistently drinks. Ludwig looked left and then right, as if he thought there was a possibility of someone overhearing this conversation over the roar of the bar behind, but as he dropped his jaw to sleep, something interrupted him.

_**THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!**_

The front door of the bar was buffeted by quite a heavy-handed wrapping, and a muffled voice could be heard through the oak front door.

"This is the police! We order you to open this door, or we will force our way in and convict whosever guilty!"

Silence fell upon the bar for the first time ever. Like cockroaches scattering in light, the other customers vacated as quickly as possible while the Feliciano and Ludwig both stood frozen in shock. More thumps could be heard as the cops tried to bust the door down by force. Seconds passed and still neither moved, too overwhelmed by fear. Just as the door was on its hinges, Ludwig leapt over the bar and pushed Feliciano and himself underneath it. A hand was cupped over the Italian's mouth, and both men were flush against the other, laying low on the hard, cement floor.

The door flew open and the cops' heavy footsteps echoed off the walls. Ludwig and Feliciano willed themselves not to make a sound, not even breath too heavily as the cops started a brief search. They checked closets, under tables, back rooms, but found not a single person or alcoholic beverage anywhere. The German and Italian huddled tighter together as they searched behind the bar for anyone hiding, trying to conceal themselves in shadow. Feliciano could've sworn the officer got within inches of touching him, but he wasn't thinking of that at the moment. Having Ludwig's body pressed against his wasn't making his already dwindling concentration any clearer.

Eventually, the cops resolved to halting the search, finding no one to incriminate and walked away defeated. The two stayed under the bar for several minutes more, their labored breaths intermingling. Flushed faces were hair's width away, and Ludwig's hand was still clasped tightly over Feliciano's mouth, and the young man's body was still restrained under his own. Innocent wide eyes looked up the German, and he made haste with disconnecting himself from the Italian. Feliciano felt slight disappointment when Ludwig let go, but he decided to not call attention to it, seeing as he got incredibly lucky.

"That was…quite a close one," the German said. The Italian smiled brightly in response, and Ludwig couldn't help but smile back.

"In more ways than one, sir! That hiding place was a bit…" Feliciano chose his wording carefully, "…unnerving." He thought for a moment. "What _were _you going to say when I asked what was troubling you, sir?"

The German sighed. He hoped the Italian boy would've forgotten with all the excitement. He picked the boy up and gently sat him on the bar, laying his hands on either side of the Italian's waist and looking him directly in the eyes.

"I was going to tell you," he said sternly, "How much I wanted to do this for the past hour."

Ludwig's lips slammed against Feliciano's, and with a gentle groan, the boy returned the favor, looping his arms around the German's neck. Ludwig's tongue slid gracefully into the Italian's mouth, and earned a moan that sent shivers down his spine. The German gracefully climbed on top of the bar and Feliciano without ever disconnecting their lips, and when he did, he offered a small smile and pinned the Italian's shoulders back further against the bar. The Italian looked up at him innocently once more, identical to when they were _under _the bar mere moments ago. Ludwig gave a questioning look, and Feliciano murmured quietly.

"Are you sure that's not just the alcohol talking?"

Ludwig chuckled and brought his lips down tenderly to Feliciano's once more.

"I would have to be an idiot to not want to do that when I'm sober."

"Good answer."

They lips intertwined once more and in that moment of decadent perfection, alcohol seemed like a poor substitute. Besides, there wasn't a prohibition on pleasurable company. Even if there was, the two weren't going to let the law stop them. They hadn't before.


End file.
